


happiness comes in on tiptoe

by scagnetism



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Baker Harry, Fluff, Insane Amounts of Fluff, M/M, Neighbor au, Teacher Louis, Tooth Rotting Fluff, and baking a lemon drizzle cake, cute boys being cute, harry might be the nicest person louis has ever come across, harry washing a car in jorts, louis doesn't know what to do with this information, sophia is in this for a hot second bc she's my mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:37:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scagnetism/pseuds/scagnetism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a supermodel standing at Louis’ door.  He suddenly feels extremely insecure about his unwashed hair and clothes that have seen better days.  He’s sure his mouth has fallen open, but there is a supermodel standing on his doorstep.  </p><p>Or, the AU where Louis is new to the neighborhood and Harry is the angel living next door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happiness comes in on tiptoe

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this](http://yotoob.tumblr.com/post/124940000489/yotoob-yotoob-weve-bought-a-new-house-and) tumblr post and thought an AU based on it might be cute...what I didn't expect was for it to turn into this monster of a fic that I am so very proud of!
> 
> This fic literally would not have been possible without Ivana who came up with some fantastic ideas and was the best fic cheerleader anyone could ask for (we are one step below the Dream Team). And of course to Katelyn, Kate, and Ainsley, who helped me out with getting ideas in check and listening to me ramble.
> 
> Title from "A Quiet Thing" from Flora, the Red Menace.
> 
> Russian translation available [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3909578) thanks to the wonderful [melroseq](http://melroseq.tumblr.com/)!

It’s not until the moving truck pulls away that Louis finally lets reality set in.         

As he’s waving goodbye to the temporary friends he made in the movers, watching as the truck rolls down the street and off into the sunset, he lets out a huge sigh.  He really has his own house now.  He’s a proper adult (or adult-like person), and holy _shit_ is that terrifying.

“This is it,” he says under his breath, walking up the drive but stopping before he actually walks in.

Louis takes a moment to step back and just look at his house.  His house.  His own.  That he paid for with his own money (and only a bit of his mum’s).  He can see the boxes piled up in the curtainless window, and he groans internally at the amount of unpacking he’s going to have to do.

His mum offered to come with him to help him unpack, and as much as he wishes he’d taken her up on her offer, he knows it would just end with all his little siblings running around the empty place and making a mess where there shouldn’t be one yet.  He promised they could all come round to visit in a few weeks when he was all settled in, and he thinks that’ll be a lot easier on his mental health.  He did ask Liam to come help him unpack, but Liam said he was tied up with work and would come in a few days – and looking at the situation now, Louis thinks Liam was just trying to get out of helping him, but that’s neither here nor there at this point because he has to do it whether or not Liam is there to help.

This is the furthest he’s ever been from home – it’s weird to think London is his home now.  He even stayed in town for uni, never straying far from his family since his mum always needed someone to babysit the girls.  He never minded, of course, but it feels weird being 26 and having this be the first time he’s living more than two hours away from his mum.

He got a wonderful teaching job in London, and he knows nothing in his hometown could match the benefits and salary, so here he is, tucked away in a cute little neighborhood, in a cute little two story house that looks like it could be in a movie about suburbia.  It isn’t perfect, but it’s nice enough, and it’s _his_.  Louis’ own _house_.  Not a flat like he shared with Liam for a few years, no, but a real house that’s all his.

It’s frightening.

But he couldn’t be more excited about what life will bring.

He’s got a good feeling about it all.

*

Louis is aggressively not unpacking.  He’s sitting on the sofa texting his mum and assuring her he’s in fine and he didn’t break his back helping the movers, texting Liam to assure him that he’s fine (Liam and his mum are so alike in that way, always worried about him), and he’s resorted to playing Angry Birds even though he doesn’t like the game anymore so he can procrastinate.

At least he has his sofa and coffee table set up, and of course his bed, so really, he’s basically got a head start on making this place his, adding the _Louis_ touch to it.  Except not really.

The last thing he’s expecting is the doorbell to ring, but it does, and he drops his phone on the hardwood in shock, feeling his heart rate speed up.  “Shit,” he curses, picking it up to inspect it for damage, and luckily, there’s not a scratch.

He pads to the doorway in old ratty clothes since he wasn’t expecting any visitors.  He runs a hand through his hair to straighten it out and hopefully make it look somewhat presentable, then pulls the door open.

There is a supermodel standing at Louis’ door.  He suddenly feels extremely insecure about his unwashed hair and clothes that have seen better days.  He’s sure his mouth has fallen open, but there is a _supermodel_ standing on his doorstep.  The man is tall, legs that go on for miles covered with sinfully tight jeans, long, chocolate curls that brush his shoulders, one arm with tattoos all the way down it, artful designs that remind Louis a lot of his own tattoos, and sparkling green eyes that rival cartoon princes.  He’s in a patterned button down with more buttons undone than should be legal, showing off birds inked on his chest, and Louis can feel his legs turning to jelly.

“Hi,” the guy says in a surprisingly deep voice, and he’s got the brightest smile Louis’ ever seen, surrounded by the softest, pinkest lips that Louis really wouldn’t mind kissing.  “Sorry if I’m, um, interrupting?  But I saw the moving truck leave a bit ago and.”  He jerks his thumb.  “I live next door.  ‘M Harry Styles.”  He speaks syrupy slow like a hazy summer day.

Louis struggles to find his voice, but he reaches his hand out to shake Harry’s.  “’M Louis Tomlinson.  Nice to meet you.”

Harry smiles again, and Louis could melt into a puddle right on the floor, but he tries not to because now that he’s living on his own, he’d be the one that has to clean it up.  “Welcome to the neighborhood, Louis!” he tells him excitedly, and Louis feels sufficiently welcomed and warm all over.  “I think you’ll really like it here.  ‘S nice and quiet and, like, really safe and everything.  ‘Ve lived here for about a year now.  It’s lovely.”

Louis nods, feeling a grin spread across his own face.  “Thanks.  Seems lovely so far.”

Harry’s still grinning, and Louis thinks he must be a light that never goes out.  “Um, anyway, I brought you a welcome present?”  He holds out a plant, and Louis realizes he’s been so distracted by Harry’s beauty that he didn’t even notice he was holding anything.  “It’s, um.  A Venus flytrap?”  He says it like it’s a question.  Louis’ heart flutters.  “I have one of my own, and she’s great company.  This could make you feel a little more at home.”

It’s strange.  It’s so very strange that his first welcome gift is a carnivorous plant, but.  “Isn’t this, like, a demon plant or something?” Louis asks before his brain can catch up to his mouth, and he looks up to see Harry’s brows are furrowed.  “What are you implying?”  He tries to play it off like a joke, turning the corner of his mouth into a smirk, but he’s not sure if it comes across that way.

“No,” he responds, confused look fading into one of amusement.  “I don’t think so.  I like mine.  They just look a bit feisty on the outside.”  He laughs, shaking his head at himself as Louis takes the plant into his hands.  “’M just rambling now, sorry.  I only wanted to welcome you.  And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to come over, yeah?  I’m a baker, actually, so I’ve always got something in the oven and make a lot of extras, so even if you wanna pop by for a snack, it’s all fine.”

Louis smiles, inspecting the Venus flytrap in his hands.  He has zero idea what to do with this.  He hates plants.  But he might be a little in love with the man standing in front of him, so he nods.  “Thank you, Harry, that’s ace,” he tells him.  “I appreciate it.  I haven’t got my family or friends ‘round here, so.”

“Like I said, if you ever need anything, even if it’s just company, I’d be more than happy to help.”

He’s so earnest and sweet and _pretty_ and he lives next door and Louis is sure he hit the jackpot.

“Um, anyway,” Harry continues,  a moment after Louis realizes he was lost in his thoughts, “I don’t want to keep you from, like, unpacking or making your house feel more like home.  But, yeah.  So nice to meet you, Louis, and I hope you like it here.”

“Thanks for being so sweet, Harry,” Louis answers sincerely, and he doesn’t miss the way Harry’s grin brightens.  “See you ‘round, then?”

“’Course,” Harry agrees with a nod, stepping off the porch and giving Louis a wave.

“Cheers.”  As Louis shuts the door behind him, he takes a moment to look at the plant.  “What the fuck,” he says aloud.  “Why the fuck?”

After setting the plant on the counter in the kitchen and forcing himself to unpack his plates, cups, and cutlery, he shoots off a quick text to Liam.

_Liiiiiiii :( my neighbor is super fit.... he’s a tattooed supermodel baker and he just gave me a venus flytrap ??????? I think I want to bang him but I have so many questions.... why did he give me a venus flytrap ????? Who does that ???? Who just has one ????_

Liam responds almost immediately with, _Ayyyy get it Tommo lol!! A venus flytrap? What is that mate ahah sounds mad!!_

Liam is useless.

*

The next morning, after Louis makes himself a cup of tea (after unpacking all his kitchen appliances) and glares at the Venus flytrap he has absolutely _no idea_ what to do with, he sighs and pads to the front window to open the hastily hung curtains he put up last night to give himself a little privacy and let some of the morning sunlight in.  If his mum knew he hung the curtains first, she’d be so proud.  What he doesn’t expect to find is Harry standing in his yard watering the plants the house’s previous owners had planted outside.

He’s in loose gym shorts (is that a thigh tattoo, Louis wonders as his mouth goes dry) and a plain white shirt, hair pulled back into a loose bun and ridiculous highlighter yellow Nikes on his feet, still gorgeous as ever even in the most casual clothes.  He looks like he’s just finished a run, and Louis is confused as to _why_ he’s watering the plants.  He knocks on the window, and Harry jumps, looking like Bambi when his eyes widen.  Louis can’t help but laugh, waving when Harry finally places the noise and looks through the window with a wide grin.

Louis heads to the door with his mug in hand and opens it, stepping out onto the porch still in his pajamas of old joggers and a soft shirt.  “Hello, Harold.”

“Hi, Louis!” Harry greets him, grin still bright as he douses a mist over a section of flowers.  “Good morning!”

“Morning to you, too,” he replies as he takes a sip of tea.  “Why exactly are you watering my plants?”

Harry chuckles lightly, shifting his gaze to Louis.  “Oh!  I just finished watering mine, and I figured with moving in, that’d be the last thing on your mind, so I thought I’d help out!  The previous owners had wonderful taste in landscaping, didn’t they?”

Louis hadn’t really looked at the landscaping, but he glances around, bright flowers and bushes littered nicely all over the yard, and he nods slightly.  “’S nice, I suppose.”

Harry goes over to turn the water off, then detaches the hose and hikes it over his shoulder to take back to his own yard, wiping his hands on his shorts.  “Have you got a green thumb, then?” Louis wonders aloud, and Harry’s eyes brighten.

“Maybe a little?  I love having plants around.  They’re so lovely and can brighten up any room.”

“Well, I’ve sort of got a black thumb, if I’m honest, and everything I touch kind of...”  He gestures vaguely.  “Perishes.  So, um, that Venus flytrap probably wasn’t the best gift to give me.”

Harry laughs, and it’s loud and ridiculous and doesn’t match his face and Louis sort of loves it.  “They’re easy to take care of,” Harry assures.  “They seem like complicated little things, but they’re not.  I can give you a guide on how to take care of them!  I’ve had mine for ages.  Call her Vera.”

“Vera the Venus flytrap.”  Louis can’t help the grin that plays at his lips as he says it, and he deliberately takes a sip of tea to hide his smile.  “Seems fitting.”

“You probably think I’m a giant loser now,” Harry laughs, burying his face in the free hand that isn’t holding the hose.

“That’s not what did it,” Louis tells him, and he motions to the shoes.  “The fact that you willingly are wearing those is what made me think you’re a loser.”

“Hey!” Harry replies, bringing his hand to his chest in mock offense.  “These are the latest fashion everywhere.  And besides, I really like yellow.  ‘S a good color for me, no?”

Louis just takes him in for a second and he nods with a light laugh.  “You’re something else, Harry Styles.  Thanks for watering my plants.”

“No problem, Louis!” he chirps, and he waves before going back into his own yard, placing the hose down before flittering around a little bit, then going back inside.

For a brief moment, Louis wonders if he’s even real at all.

*

Later, when Louis makes his way to his car to run to Tesco, he notices a paper taped to his front door, along with a muffin in a plastic bag.  Brows furrowed, he carefully takes it off to read what it says.  There’s a post it stuck to the printed paper that reads, “Louis, this is the guide I used when I first got Vera :) It explains how to take care of a flytrap better than anything else I’ve seen, so I printed it out for you.  And I had some extra blueberry muffins (did I tell you I’m a baker?) so I thought you might like one.  Apologies if you don’t like blueberries.  H .x  PS Maybe you could name your flytrap Serena?  A Venus flytrap named Serena, a bit of irony.  Williams sisters.  A good joke, I think.”

Louis laughs out loud despite himself, shaking his head before popping a bit of the muffin in his mouth.  Just as expected, it’s delicious.  He feels like he has to do something in return – Harry’s been way too fucking _nice_.  How can one person be this _nice_?  It’s baffling to him, and he’s lost in thought as he gets in his car.

A Venus flytrap named Serena, though.  What a great pun.

*

A few hours later, after his living room looks more like a living room and his bedroom looks like a bedroom, Louis is lying in the middle of the floor staring up at the ceiling.  He knows he should go get dinner or call his mum or do something, but he’s too tired to even move.  He looks around at the boxes that still surround him, and he thinks of all the unpacking he still has to do and closes his eyes.

He dozes off and has no idea how long, but he awakens to the shrill ringing of his doorbell, which causes him to shoot up and rub his eyes.  It’s dark out now, the sun has long set and there are only bits of purple decorating the otherwise blackened sky.  Louis logically knows the only person it could be at the door is Harry, but he’s still surprised when he opens the door and sees him standing there.  He’s traded in his gym outfit from earlier for another pair of skinny jeans and a black shirt, hair still in a bun.  “Hey,” Louis says, rubbing his eye as a smile creeps over his face.

“Hello!” Harry retorts, and his bright grin quickly turns into something softer when he says, “oh, did I wake you?  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to overstep anything – I just wanted to come and – ”

Louis lets out a little chuckle, putting his hand up to halt him.  He notices the bag in his hand and realizes Harry is still winning gold in the niceness Olympics.  “Harry, it’s fine, yeah?  I got a little tired from unpacking and had a quick kip.  Besides that, I wouldn’t unpack anything and would live out of these boxes if it was totally up to me, but me mum is coming next week to check the place out, so I better have it in tip top shape.”

Harry laughs, covering his mouth with his hand, and Louis can’t help but realize just how _big_ his hands are, but he shakes off the thought quickly.  “I’m sure your mum’ll love it no matter what.  But, um, I brought Chinese?  I thought maybe you could use some company.  And I’m excellent at unpacking.  Proper master at it.”

Louis smiles, feeling his heart stutter against his ribs.  How did he get lucky enough to have an actual angel living next door to him?  “Well, since you brought me food and offered to do hard labor for me, I’m not going to say no to that, Harold.”  He shifts from the door and motions Harry in, trying to peek into the bag as he walks by.  “What did you bring me?  I’m bloody starving!”

“I didn’t know what you liked, obviously, so I went with orange chicken.  Everyone likes it, right?  It’s, like.  Not even real Chinese food.”

Louis raises his hand to his mouth in offense, letting out an overly dramatic gasp that causes Harry to laugh.  “I’m offended.  I think I have excellent taste in fake Chinese food, thank you very much.”  He plucks a container out of the bag before Harry sets it down on the coffee table.  “Also, you’re lucky because I actually unpacked my plates and shit earlier _and_ bought some beverages at Tesco.”

Harry lets out a loud laugh as he pulls out two more containers from the bag.  “Wow, I’m in for a treat, aren’t I?  You’ve pulled out all the stops.”

“Do you want beer or beer?” Louis asks, shoving a fork into his food and doing his best bow toward Harry as he opens the fridge.

He taps his chin pensively, pretending to think long and hard about the choice.  “I must go with beer.  It was a hard decision, but I’m hoping it was the right one.”

Louis laughs as he pulls two out of the fridge and sits down on the couch, patting the cushion next to him for Harry to sit down.  Harry tentatively plops down next to Louis, chopsticks in hand.  “You sure you don’t want a fork?”

He nods.  “I always use chopsticks.”

Of course he does.  Louis still isn’t sure if Harry is a real person at this point, but he knows that he’d probably jump in front of a moving car to save him if it came down to it, and he’s not sure what that says being that he’s known of Harry’s existence for slightly more than 24 hours.  “Never could get the hang of those meself,” Louis tells him, and Harry nods.

“They can be tricky buggers.”

There’s a silence that falls over them, and Louis realizes just how close they’re sitting.  They’re almost pressed against one another even though there’s an entire couch for them to share.  “So,” Louis says, shifting away a little bit for his own sanity, “I like your name suggestion for my flytrap.  Serena is very punny.  And she’s over there.”  He points to the kitchen counter, and Harry lifts his head, squinting to see where the pot is.  “Doing...whatever it is plants do.”

“She seems very happy,” Harry replies approvingly, mouth curling into a grin.  “Was that weird?  Giving you that to welcome you to the neighborhood?  That was weird, wasn’t it?”

Louis bites his bottom lip to keep the laughter from spilling out.  Harry’s brows are furrowed with a crease settled between the two of them, and it takes all his willpower not to reach over and smooth it out with his thumb.  “If I’m honest, it was not the welcome gift I was expecting, that.  But she does add a nice touch to my currently very sparse kitchen.  Gives the illusion that I have my life together enough to own a plant.  So, thanks for that.”

Harry smiles down into his chicken, cheeks turning pink as he tries to hide his blush.  “You’re very welcome.  Um, why did you move here if you don’t mind me asking?  You mentioned that you don’t have any family or friends here?”

Louis stirs his food with his fork, shocked that Harry remembered an offhanded comment he made.  He feels something twist in his chest, a good twist.  “Yeah, I got a teaching job here.  I had one back home – I’m from Donny – ”

“I’m originally from Cheshire,” Harry cuts in with a grin.

“Ah, aren’t you a posh lad?”  Harry just laughs, letting Louis continue.  “But the job back there was nothing compared to this.  I teach music to primary school kids, and the salary at this school is so much better.  Like, beyond anything I could’ve dreamed of for only having two years of teaching under my belt.  So, it was a no-brainer, but I’ve never been this far from me mum as pathetic as that sounds.  I have five little sisters and a little brother, actually, and it’s weird to think I’ll be so far from them.”

“Six siblings?”  Louis nods.  “Holy shit.  Are you guys close?” Harry asks, and he looks so genuinely interested that Louis could cry.

He nods again, and he feels a smile creep across his face at the mention of his family.  “We struggled growing up, and me mum raised us herself for a long time, so I was always babysitter.  They’re all such great kids.  I know I’m biased, being their big brother and all, but they’re all wonderful even when they’re being little monsters.  I already miss them so much.”

“I’m sure they miss you, too,” Harry tells him softly, reaching out to give his leg a gentle pat.  Louis feels electricity take over his veins as he looks into Harry’s eyes.  “It must’ve been hard leaving.”

Louis shrugs, feeling like he’s talked too much about himself and not enough about Harry.  “Yeah.”  There’s a lump in his throat that he swallows.  “But I had to go do something for me, y’know?  Try to live my life outside the box I’m so used to and see where that gets me.  And hey, if I fall on me arse, I know I can always go back to my mum.  She’d love to have me back.”  He clears his throat and looks over at Harry.  “But hey, Cheshire boy, what brings you to London?”

“Same thing, I guess,” Harry says, putting his empty container on the coffee table and leaning back on the couch.  “I wanted to start a bakery, and like.  I’m from Holmes Chapel specifically – it’s so damn small.  There isn’t a market for anything, except maybe a taxi service so they can take everyone that wants to leave out.”  He laughs at himself, and Louis is so endeared he joins in, but god, that joke was terrible.  “And my mum was gutted at first cause my sister – Gemma, she’s older than me – left, too.  She lives here, actually.  Went to uni here and stayed.  But my mum was upset because we both left, but now she’s glad we did because when she comes to visit, she gets to spend time with both of us and shop in the big city.  It’s a right laugh when she comes.”

“You and your sister are close?” Louis asks, and Harry nods.

“Gems and I do everything together.  The only reason you haven’t seen her is because she’s on vacation right now because otherwise, she’s at my place nearly every day.  Can’t get rid of her.”  He smiles as he says it.  “After I got my bakery started, she was out of work for a bit, and she worked at the bakery until she got a proper job.  Did I mention the name of my bakery is Flour Petal?  Like, F-L-O-U-R.”

“You clever boy,” Louis laughs, throwing his head back on the couch.  He can’t believe Harry is this lame.  “Incredible.”

“Innit?”

“I haven’t known you long, but do you get off on puns or summat?”  Again, Louis’ brain has yet to catch up with his tongue.

Harry’s face turns a light shade of pink before bursting into loud, hysterical laughter.  “You got me.  My deep dark secret.  I wank to puns.”

Louis lets out a choked laugh because he was pointedly trying _not_ to think about Harry and wanking or anything of the sort, but now that the thought is in his mind, he’s not going to ever escape it.  “I’ll remember that for later, Harold,” Louis answers, and he thinks he winks, but he might’ve just blinked.  He lost his game somewhere, apparently.  Maybe left it back in Donny.

Harry bites his lip, eyes trained on the floor before finally bringing them up to meet Louis’.  His eyes are shining with mirth, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he just shakes his head at nothing in particular.  “So, um, yeah, that’s my family.”

“’S sweet that you and your sister are so close,” Louis tells him, and Harry smiles, making Louis feel warm all over.  “I’m sure I’ll meet her when she’s back from her vacation.”

“Oh, of course!”  He brightens.  “So, um, you still have a lot to unpack, huh?”

Louis groans, burying his face in his hands before nodding.  “And I just wanna do fuck all.  I’ve got me bed set up, and that’s all I really need, innit?”

Harry laughs, tugging at Louis’ hand and pointing toward a box.  “C’mon, lazy bum.  Up you go.  Let’s make this house fabulous!”

Unpacking isn’t nearly as awful as it should be with Harry making him laugh and Harry looking pretty when he bends down and Harry pulling his hair back into a bun when wisps of curls come loose and hang in his face and Harry concentrating with his tongue between his teeth and Harry, Harry, Harry.

Louis doesn’t think he gets attached to people very quickly, but god, he could get used to having Harry come over every day and do nothing but sit with him.  He’s so easy to get along with – he makes conversation so easy and there’s nothing like making him laugh with his raucous laughter that fills up the whole house.

It’s late when Harry leaves, and they share an awkward one armed hug before he waves and goes back over to his own house.  Louis lingers on the porch and watches him walk away, feeling strangely like that was a date he never wanted to end.  He wouldn’t even mind if that had been a date – it was better than any other one he’d ever been on.

He crawls into bed that night with his limbs feeling lighter than they have in ages, even though he’s tired from all the unpacking, and thoughts of long hair and green eyes and toned muscle swimming around his head.  Louis pulls out his phone to type out a text to Liam.

_Liaaaammmmmm not only is Harry (fit neighbor) super fit but he brought me Chinese food and helped me unpack boxes !  He is too good for this world !!!  I am fucked !!!_

_Right on!!!  Have u shagged him yet lol_

_Fuck off lime_ , he replies, but he doesn’t pass up the opportunity to send another text containing only three egg plant emojis and a tongue emoji.

 _Eeeeewwww grossssss TMI_ is Liam’s immediate response, but he adds, _I’m happy for u though bro :)_

Louis rolls his eyes, but falls asleep with a smile.

*

When Louis goes out to get his mail the next day, sliding out the front door in some baggy shorts and an old Adidas tank top, the last thing he expects to see is Harry standing in his driveway washing his car.  With no shirt and tiny, little cut-off jorts.  And yes, that definitely is a thigh tattoo.

Louis can’t bring himself to move from his spot on the porch, feeling his mouth go totally dry as he looks at Harry.  He holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun and squints, unable to take his eyes off Harry.  He hasn’t seem to have noticed him yet, but his abs are glistening with sweat, a dark butterfly inked along them that Louis suddenly wants to taste.  He’s toned but soft, love handles gently spilling over the sides of the tight shorts, and Louis just wants to bite the doughy flesh.

Before he can even bring himself to say anything, Harry lifts his head, bun bobbing, and waves.  “Hiya, Louis!”

He wants to reply, but his mouth feels like the Sahara and he suddenly can’t remember any words.  He’s sure the silence goes on for longer than it should, but he finally pulls himself together and replies, “Hey, Harry,” about two octaves deeper than he intends to.

If Harry notices, he doesn’t say anything and instead gives him a bright grin before dipping the sponge back into the soapy water.  “How are you today?”

“Good,” Louis tells him, willing his legs to move and getting off the porch to stand on the driveway.  He suddenly has no idea what to do with his hands, so he tucks them in the pockets of his shorts while trying to look as natural as he can.  “Uh, not that I mind, of course, but why are you washing my car?”

“I just finished washing mine,” he explains like it’s the most natural thing in the world, wiping his sweat covered forehead with the back of his hand.  “Noticed yours was a bit dirty, so.”  He shrugs, smile warm.  “Do you need to go somewhere?  You could borrow my car if you need to.”

And Jesus Christ, Harry must be some sort of angel sent here to bring some spice to Louis’ usually mundane life.  He feels like he has to do something to try to pay Harry back for all he’s done, but he has no idea what to do, and as he watches Harry shirtless and wet, he knows now isn’t the time to come up with _appropriate_ ways to pay him back.  “No, ‘s fine.  Was only coming to get me mail, actually.  Can I help you out or summat?  Get you a beer?”

Harry shakes his head, putting the sponge down on the car and reaching up to adjust his bun.  His abs ripple with the movement, and Louis has to stop himself from staring – he’s glad the shorts he has on are loose and can keep some things to the imagination.  “I’m about done, but thank you!  It looks super shiny now.  I said ‘it,’ but have you named your car?”

Louis giggles, covering his mouth with his hand, and he’s glad to see Harry’s eyes start sparkling.  “I haven’t.  What is it with you and naming things?  Do you get off on that, too?”

Harry laughs and starts, “My car’s called Shania.”

Louis’ brows furrow as he tilts his head in confusion.  “As in...Twain?”

Harry nods automatically, seemingly glad that Louis recognized.  “‘You’re Still the One’ is a lyrical masterpiece.  I might be a bit of a sap, but she’s brilliant.”

And why wouldn’t Harry name his car after Shania Twain?  It seems like a very Harry thing to do.  “I’ll remember that, Styles.” 

 He looks at the ground shyly, piping up, “But yes, I do like naming things.  You should hear what I’ve named my –”  His face goes bright red before he totally stops himself.  “Never mind.”

Louis shakes his head, feeling the heat in the pit of his stomach rise to his face, and he turns to the mailbox, needing a second to look away from Harry to compose himself.  “Cheeky,” he mumbles, and he’s not sure if Harry hears him, but it’s more than okay if he doesn’t.  Louis clears his throat before speaking again, getting Harry’s attention immediately.  “Um, really, thank you,” Louis says softly, and Harry’s expression is open and earnest.  “You really didn’t have to do any of this.”

“I just wanted you to feel welcome,” Harry answers, quickly adding, “And I like helping people!”

He smiles, running a hand through his messy hair.  “Well, um.  Thank you.”

“Yeah, course.”  Harry takes a step back from the car, throwing the sponge in the water bucket.  He does a waving hand motion toward the car and spins around happily.  “Ta-dah!”

“’S stunning.  Just marvelous.  Incredible.”

Harry laughs, picking up the bucket as he nods toward his house.  “Well, I’m gonna go pop in the shower before I run some errands.  ‘Ve got today off.  Need me to pick you up anything at the shops?”

Louis shakes his head, wondering how one person can be this nice all the time.  He likes to think he’s a pretty good person, but he’s nothing compared to the endless fountain of kindness that is Harry Styles.  “No, think I’m all set.  May stop by yours later if that’s alright?  Or maybe you could come help me unpack?”

Harry nods enthusiastically, still smiling with his dimples on full display.  “Sounds great!  See ya later, Louis!”

“Bye,” Louis calls with a wave, and he watches him walk all the way into his house with only minimal drooling.

*

The image of Harry washing his car in those little tiny shorts is what drives Louis to bake a lemon drizzle cake to give Harry as a sign of his gratitude.  He calls his mum for her recipe, and she’s not only ecstatic that he’s making it for a _boy_ that he met, but excited in general that he’s actually trying to cook something.  He gets off the phone after only a few eye rolls and a full heart like only speaking to his mum can give him.

He’s got Liam on speaker as he fixes the batter, and every so often Sophia chimes in with a comment, so he must be on speaker, too.

“I can’t believe you’re baking, Tommo,” Liam says through laughter, and he hears a high pitched giggle join in with him.  “You’re a changed man since you moved!”

“Listen, Lime,” he starts, looking at the recipe he wrote down quickly while on the phone with his mum and cursing himself for not writing neater, “he’s way too nice.  I have to do something, so I pulled this idea out my arse and I’m gonna make him this damn cake if it kills me.”

There’s a beep signaling the oven is ready, heated to the right temperature, and Liam says, “Is that the smoke alarm?  Already, mate?  Is the thing even in the oven?”

Louis rolls his eyes even though he knows Liam can’t see him (he feels like he’s done a lot of eye rolling lately), and retorts, “No, wanker, it’s the oven being preheated.”

“Just looking out for you, Lou.”

They continue on with random conversation, easy banter like it’s always been, and Louis realizes just how much he misses his friend.  He can’t wait until Liam comes to visit, even if he’s a shithead for not wanting to help him unpack.

Liam’s mid-story when Louis shouts, “Shit, shit, shit!” watching as egg shells fall into his already lumpy batter.  “I just fucking dropped eggshells into this batter.  Fuck, shit, bollocks, cock,” he spits out, groaning as he sticks his hand in to pull them out.

“Use a spoon to get the pieces out,” Sophia chirps from the other line, Liam’s laughter loud in the background.

Louis looks down at his batter covered hand with an exasperated sigh.  “Thank you, Sophia.”

*                                                                                                    

Louis nervously rings the doorbell to Harry’s house holding the lemon drizzle cake.  He keeps looking down at it, knowing it’s slightly lumpy, possibly a tad overcooked, and far from perfect (and thankfully doesn’t include any egg shells), but he tells himself that Harry is, well, Harry, and will be pleased regardless.  When he opens the door, a grin spreads over his face.  “Louis!  Hi!”

“Hey,” Louis replies.  “I made you a lemon drizzle cake, and listen, mate, I can’t bake for shit.  I know sod all about any of it.  I’m fucking horrible.  I’m sure you could make one a thousand times better than this since you’re a baker and all, but it was the only thing I could think to do to thank you for all you’ve done for me since I moved in.  So, uh.”  He holds out the plastic wrapped tin, smiling nervously.  “Here you go.  Me mum’s recipe.  I’ve never made this before ever.  It’s the thought that counts, innit?”

Harry’s grin widens as he takes the tin into his hands, carefully inspecting it.  “This is fantastic, Louis!  It looks delicious.  That’s really lovely of you.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, looking at Harry seriously.  “You’re not taking the piss?”

“No, seriously, it looks delicious.  Come in and we can have a cuppa, yeah?”  Harry motions Louis in, and he follows slowly.  “And I can give you my critique,” he adds, and Louis lets out a groan.

“There it is, your ulterior motive.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head.  “I can teach you how to bake for real one time if you’d like.”  He jerks his thumb to his left before Louis can reply.  “The kitchen is this way.”

Harry’s house is decorated almost exactly as Louis would’ve pictured it.  It’s very sweet and homey with lots of floral prints, pictures of family and friends hung up almost everywhere.  There are cute little knickknacks littering end tables and cabinets – he seems to have a strange liking for frog trinkets and Louis plans to ask him about that later.  As they near the kitchen, he can smell the distinct scent of vanilla and cinnamon, and it feels like he’s being wrapped up in warmth.  It’s all so very _Harry_ and Louis loves it so much.

“What sort of tea d’ya like?” Harry asks, opening the cabinet as he turns to look back at Louis.

Louis takes a seat on a stool by the island just off to the side of the kitchen.  “Yorkshire if you’ve got it, please.”

Harry scrunches his nose at that, bearing striking resemblance to an upset bunny, and shakes his head.  “That stuff’s disgusting.  Here, I’ll make you some of this new peach tea I got.  ‘S nice.”

Now it’s Louis’ turn to wrinkle his nose as he watches Harry get out his kettle.  “How can you call yourself a Brit and not like Yorkshire?”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly, filling the kettle with water and heading toward the stove.  “I guess my tastebuds haven’t been burned off from drinking too much of that gross tea like yours have.”

Louis shakes his head with a light laugh.  “Disgraceful, Harry.”

Harry waves off the comment with a smile.  “How’s Serena?  Still doing alright?”

“She’s good,” Louis tells him with a nod.  “Not giving me any trouble.  She’s rather quiet, too.  Makes for a good friend.”

Harry lets out an amused snort, making his way back over to where he placed the cake.  “Glad she’s not being too mouthy.  This looks really good for a first go at baking, by the way,” he tells Louis.  “D’ya want my professional opinion on it or am I supposed to tell you it’s beautiful and perfect and pretend I can’t do better?”

“Oi!” Louis shouts, slapping the counter.  “You just told me a few moments ago that it looks delicious!  Was that a lie?  What’s the truth, Styles?”  He narrows his eyes to try to look menacing, but Harry only laughs.  If Liam laughed when he was trying to look upset, it’d earn him a smack, but with Harry, he feels his face go soft by only looking at him.

Harry takes the plastic wrap off the top, examining the cake.  Louis hates that he’s craving Harry’s approval, but he feels his heart fluttering, hoping that Harry will tell him he’s done a good job.  “I reckon it’s probably delicious, but ‘ve got to try it to be sure, don’t I?”

Louis makes a face, ready to find out that not being able to bake is some sort of weird deal breaker that Harry has.  “Fine,” Louis agrees with a sharp nod.  “Do your worst.”

Harry walks over to a drawer and takes out a knife to cut the cake.  “You’ve drizzled the glaze very well.  My mate Niall works at the bakery with me, and I still can’t get him to do it this well, so that’s a point in your favor.”  Louis doesn’t say anything, but he feels his face start to heat up at the praise.  Harry sticks the knife through, cutting himself a small slice of cake that crumbles once he tries to take it out of the tin.  Louis has no idea if that’s a good or bad thing.  “See how it crumbled?” Harry asks with furrowed brows, and Louis nods, “that’s because it’s dry.”

“Harold, this is where you’re supposed to kiss my arse and tell me my cake is wonderful.”

“You told me to do my worst!” he reminds Louis with a laugh, popping a bit of cake into his mouth.  “If you can’t take the heat, you shouldn’t have been in the kitchen.”

Louis groans at the pun, smile threatening to take his face over.  He miraculously manages to stop any semblance of joy from creeping onto his features to deadpan, “And is it delicious?”

Harry chews thoughtfully, and Louis could watch his sharp jaw work all day.  He shakes that thought away when Harry’s lips quirk up.  “’S good.  Definitely a bit dry, but the flavor is excellent.  Could just use some practice, yeah?  I can show you how.  We could have a proper baking class or summat.  I’ve got tomorrow off, too, if you wanna learn to make a perfect lemon drizzle.”

Louis pretends to contemplate saying yes, even though his mind is screaming for him to just say it.  He feels like he can’t sound too desperate, so he feigns offense.  “Mm, I don’t know, Harold.  Are you just going to insult my skills if we do that?”  He doesn’t verbalize that he wouldn’t mind if that was all Harry did.

He laughs, heading to the cabinets and pulling out a few mugs.  “Promise I won’t,” he says, looking over his shoulder with a toothy smile.  He crosses his fingers and puts them to his heart.  “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“I guess I could do that, then.  I have a very fragile ego, you know.  I must be told I’m wonderful virtually every seven minutes or I combust.”

Harry bursts out laughing, and Louis realizes Harry’s laughter is quickly becoming one of his absolute favorite sounds.  He pretends to look at an invisible watch and says, “Oh, it’s been six, so we have another minute.  How do you take your tea?”

“Black,” he answers, adding, “with this peach shit you’re making, it’s not going to need any sugar, anyway.”

“Good.  You’re sweet enough,” Harry says, and he momentarily freezes.  If Louis wasn’t looking for a reaction, he wouldn’t have noticed one, but Harry’s fluid movements temporarily stop and Louis feels heat rise within him, all the way to the tips of his ears.  Did Harry _really_ say that?  The weak smile he gives Louis afterwards indicates that it did indeed slip out.

Louis coughs slightly, clearing his throat.  “Um, thank you.”

The kettle whistles, and as Harry takes it off the stove, he says, “There was your compliment.  Now you won’t combust.”

Louis giggles and mentally applauds Harry for the smooth comeback.  “Ah, good.  I live another day.”

Snorting, Harry pushes a mug of tea Louis’ way before going to fix his own.

When Louis picks up his mug, he realizes ‘Dream Boat’ is written on the side in bold, blocky print.  “Why do you have this?” Louis laughs, pointing to the slogan with raised brows.  “Please tell me you didn’t buy this for yourself, Harold.  Please tell me you aren’t that guy.”

Harry laughs, cheeks turning a light pink as he tucks a few wild strands of hair behind his ear.  “No, um, Gems bought it for me as a joke for my birthday.”

“Well, it’s only right you gave it to me, then,” Louis says with more confidence than he feels.  “I definitely am very dreamy.”  He knows it’s risky to say it, but he watches as Harry bites his lip, holding back a grin.

“I didn’t mean to give it to you – thought I grabbed a plain one,” Harry tells him, and Louis feels his heart fall into his stomach as he goes to make a comment to cover it up. Before he can say anything, Harry turns to him.  “Or did I?” he asks, punctuating his thought with a wink.

Louis hides his grin behind his mug, thinking he most definitely lives up to his Dream Boat label.

*

Louis fidgets with his jumper as he stands on Harry’s door step the following day.  He knows it shouldn’t be as daunting to ring the doorbell the second time, but this time is almost worse.  He agreed to the baking lesson Harry offered, and he’s never been more ready to spend an afternoon with a pretty boy making a hopefully pretty treat.  Before Louis can even ring the bell, a flustered looking Harry answers, hair wild and curls pulled back from his face with a headband.  “Louis!” he greets breathlessly, dimples on display.  “I saw you walk up the path.”

Louis can’t help but smile at the sight of Harry, and he pulls his jumper further down to ensure he looks alright.  He doesn’t know why exactly he’s so nervous, but after their tea “date” yesterday, it felt like there was some sort of spark in the air more palpable than before.  “Hey, Haz,” he says easily, letting the nickname slip out without much thought.  “Ready to have your kitchen ruined?  I’ve warned you I’m a disaster.”

Harry laughs, but there’s a shrill edge to that proves he isn’t totally comfortable and it confuses Louis, but he brushes it off.  After yesterday being so wonderful, he doesn’t understand why there would be any tension between them, so he figures he must be imagining it.  Harry motions Louis in and places a hand on his shoulder gently, causing Louis to feel an electricity under his skin.  “Good thing I have you to help me clean up, then,” he answers, and Louis groans.

“You’re not one for house work, are you?” Harry asks, and Louis laughs a little, shrugging sheepishly.

“Can’t say I am.”

Harry’s weird edge seems to fade slightly as they start toward the kitchen.  He lets out a breath, pointing in the general direction of the counter.  “I baked a lemon drizzle before you came here, just so we can taste it and you can see what we’re aiming towards,” Harry explains as he opens the fridge and pulls out a cake wrapped in aluminum foil. 

“Think I’d rather just eat that meself and you can bake your own,” Louis teases as he takes in the sight of baking utensils and ingredients set up all over the counter.  Harry rolls his eyes lovingly, shaking his head and poking his tongue out.

“You’re not getting out of helping me that easily, Tomlinson.”  He starts to pull off the foil when he’s interrupted by the loud ring of Louis’ mobile.

“Shit, sorry,” he laments, pulling the phone out of his pocket and looking at the screen.  Of course it’s his mum.  Because who else would call him right now.  “Ah, it’s me mum.  ‘Ve got to take this!  Cut me a slice for when I come back!  I can’t wait to try it!”

Louis notices Harry’s brows furrow and his pretty pink lips turn into a pout, but he thinks nothing of it as he walks into the living room and brings the phone to his ear.  “Hey, Mum,” he says warmly.

“Louis!  Hello, darling!  Are you all ready for our arrival in the next few days?”

He can feel her excitement seeping through the phone, and he can’t help but smile when he thinks of how happy she must be to come visit.  “Yeah, course.  Trying to get everything to look its best, but you know I’m a lazy arse.  It’s been a struggle.”

They go back and forth for a few moments, and from where Louis stands in the living room, he has a perfect view of Harry.  He tries to concentrate on what his mum is saying, but he’s finding it difficult when Harry’s pacing back and forth across the kitchen looking more nervous than he has any right to be.  He arranges and rearranges the tools on the counter, changing where the bowls are set, then the spoons, then the ingredients, and Louis can’t figure out why.  He shifts the position of the measuring cups and the scale, then puts them right back where he originally had them, tongue between his teeth in concentration.

“Darling,” his mum cuts in, interrupting his thoughts, “you still there?”

“Yes, Mum, but I’m at Harry’s right now,” he tells her, eyes trained on Harry as he goes to the refrigerator and starts rearranging things in there, too.  “So, um, can I call you back later?”

His mother lets out a shriek of sheer joy, and he imagines her throwing her hand over her mouth to calm herself down.  “Sweetheart!  Why didn’t you tell me you were at that sweet boy’s house?  Go, get off and make him yours!” she laughs.  “I wouldn’t have kept you this long if you’d just spoken up, you silly thing!  Talk to you later, Lou!”

“Bye, Mum,” he answers with a laugh, hanging up the phone and taking another second to study Harry.

This time he’s running a spatula around the edge of the finished cake, seemingly smoothing out the frosting again and again like it wasn’t good enough the first time.  Without even seeing it, Louis is sure it was perfect.  He doesn’t want to startle Harry, so he cautiously goes into the kitchen and gently says, “Yeah, uh, that was my mum.”

His plan fails when Harry jumps, spatula flying out of his hand and across the counter.  “Shit,” he curses, looking at the smeared white across the black countertop.  “Gotta clean that up.  But oh, yeah, lovely.  What’d she say?”  He pulls a paper towel off the roll and wipes it over the mess.

“Nothing really,” Louis answers, still wary to start back into the kitchen since Harry’s acting so strange and jittery.  “Just happy to talk to me for a mo.  Did you cut us pieces?”

Harry lifts his head, hair starting to fall into his eyes again before letting out a small “no.”

“Where do you keep your knives?  I can cut slices for us,” Louis offers, aimlessly starting toward a drawer to find the cutlery.

“I couldn’t cut you a piece because this is a message cake!” Harry spits suddenly, and Louis turns around to look at him with furrowed brows.

“I don’t follow?”

Harry huffs, pointing to the cake that’s now fully unwrapped and sitting on the counter.  “It’s a message cake, Louis!  There is a message on it!  I can’t cut it because then the message will be all messed up!  I was going to show it to you, but your mum called, so for the love of god, please come look at this cake!”

Louis feels his face scrunch in confusion as he heads over to the counter, giving Harry a strange look.  Harry emphatically points at the cake, eyes widening like Louis is being the dumbest person in the world.  When his eyes fall on the writing, he realizes that yes, he is the dumbest person in the world.

The cake is frosted perfectly in white icing, looking like the perfect mix of homemade and professional thanks to Harry’s skills from owning a bakery.  In blue script “Will you go out with me?” is written on it, roses the color of Harry’s lips surrounding the message.  Louis stares at it completely dumbfounded for a few moments, reading the message over and over again.  Harry wants to go out with him.  Harry wants to go out with him.  Harry with the pretty hair and pretty smile and pretty dimples and pretty soul and pretty everything wants to go out with him.

“I’ve made a complete tit of myself,” Harry says, voice cutting through the broken record in Louis’ brain that’s only chanting “Harry, Harry, Harry.”

He quickly pulls himself out of his trance to turn to him.  “What?”

Harry’s raking a hand through his hair with his back to Louis.  “No, ‘s fine.  You’re looking at the cake like it’s got six heads, and cakes don’t even have heads, so that’s something, innit?  You can say no.  You don’t want to go out with me.  I just went out on a limb.  You can tell me no now.”

“Haz,” Louis whispers, putting his hand on Harry’s back, feather light.  A smile creeps up on his lips.  Harry turns, face open and eyes even greener than they seemed a few minutes ago.  “What if I wanted to say yes?”

He gasps, looking the most cartoonish he ever has before he wraps his hand lightly around Louis’ wrist.  “You do?  Want to go on a date?  With me?”

Louis chuckles, tucking an unruly curl behind Harry’s ear.  He nods, grabbing Harry’s hand with his free one.  “Of course I do.  You’ve been so incredible to me since I moved here, and I really like you.”

Harry’s face flushes pink, and he takes his gaze off Louis to look at the ground instead, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones.  “I was so nervous you wouldn’t want to and that I was imagining that you felt something and, like, I’m not usually this forward, but you’re _so_ lovely, and these past few days have been so _amazing_ , and I already texted my mum about how nice you are, and...”  He stops, watching Louis’ eyes glimmer.  “I’m rambling again.”

“’S cute when you ramble,” Louis assures, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and looking up into his eyes.  Harry pulls Louis even closer to him, and Louis feels undeniably safe in his arms.  “’M glad you asked me.”

“’M glad I did, too.”

They smile at each other, and it’s like the world is frozen around them.  Harry starts to lean down for a kiss, inching forward toward Louis with his lips slightly parted when Louis stops him.  “Wait!  Do you need my address so you can pick me up for this date?”

Harry rolls his eyes, throwing his head back to let out the loudest laugh that shakes his whole body as he tightens his grip on Louis.  He can feel the deep rumble of Harry’s body against his own, and his grin grows.  “Oh, shut up,” Harry tells him before pressing their lips together, giggles still resting on his tongue.

Harry’s laughter tastes even sweeter in his mouth.

*

Louis tugs on his button down for the three millionth time the following night, looking in the mirror and having an internal war with his reflection.  It’s his and Harry’s first official date, for god’s sake, and he needs to look his absolute best.  He’s got his hair artfully messed, and he thinks it’s probably the nicest fringe he’s ever crafted.  He texted Liam a photo and got his and Sophia’s approval ( _Tommo!! You look so dapper mateeeee :) Soph says u look handsome but not more handsome than me ahaha! Have fun tonight and be safe ;))_ , and his mum sent him lots of sappy texts assuring him that tonight would be perfect and not to scare away the cute, nice boy.  He takes a deep breath and smooths himself out one more time, smiling at himself in the mirror.

He’s not sure why he’s so nervous, considering everything with Harry from the first minute has been so easy and free, how they fell into a simple rhythm before they could see what was happening.  He knows he doesn’t have anything to worry about, but still, he wants tonight to be the absolute best it can be.

Just as he’s walking out of the bathroom, deciding he looks as good as he possibly can, the doorbell rings.

He takes a shaky breath as he opens it, and there’s Harry standing on his porch.  He’s in his signature dark skinnies with a floral patterned shirt that’s only got a few buttons done up.  His curls look especially bouncy, and Louis’ heart won’t stop soaring.  He pulls a pink rose out from behind his back and hands it to Louis with a shy smile.  “For you.”

Louis twirls the rose between his fingers and looking down at it bashfully.  “Thank you, Haz.”

Harry holds out his hand for Louis to take, and he entwines his smaller fingers with Harry’s long ones.  “I see you found the place alright, Harold.”

“Wasn’t too hard, Louis.”  Harry leans in and plants a soft kiss on Louis’ lips, pulling away with a grin on his face, and it only takes a moment before they’re completely consumed with laughter.

They walk to Harry’s car hand in hand, steps falling in perfect time with one another, and Louis couldn’t be more grateful that he lives next door to an angel.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are so, so appreciated! I'm on [tumblr](http://mytinylou.tumblr.com) \- come say hi! :)


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